


The Lost Souls

by jnic84



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mutant Powers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers felt helpless when you were captured by Hydra. But he couldn't imagine what they had planned for the both of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue:

 

Natasha Romanov narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the reportedly decommissioned Hydra facility. 

“Two guards by the front entrance, and three patrolling the grounds,” she recounted in a hushed voice. “Well this isn’t a challenge,” she huffed, and you had to muffle a laugh.

“I’ll take the two at the entrance if you want, unless you think you don’t need me at all. I really wouldn’t mind a quick nap in the Quinjet,” you grinned as your partner rolled her eyes.

“I guess I can’t have all the fun,” Natasha smirked as she began to stand from her crouch, “You can take those two. Wouldn’t want you to get rusty, Y/L/N.”

“Aw, you’re the best. And Fury says you don’t play well with others,” you said slyly as you slowly moved away from her side and toward the two men standing dispassionately between you and the base you were determined to infiltrate.

“I am a delight,” Romanov countered flatly. You could hear the sounds of a small scuffle over the coms and knew that the Black Widow had already taken down one of her targets. “I’m sure Agent Keller would agree. Our mission was a success.”

“You shot him,” you sniggered as you silently scaled the building, preparing to take the soldiers out from above.

“He got in the way,” she returned blithely. “It was just a flesh wound.”

You smothered a chuckle as you reached the edge of the roof, taking a deep breath before dropping onto the unwitting guards. One was knocked out from the impact of both you and the butt of your gun, but the second only appeared stunned. He let out an angry shout and you silenced him with a shock from an electrified baton. You could hear Romanov’s grunt of annoyance in your ear.

“That little noise alerted my targets,” she growled, but you took her apparent anger in stride.

“Well, you seemed bored,” you replied airily. 

Grabbing one of the unconscious guards’ hands, you pressed it against the security panel, and seconds later it began to light up and the lock on the warehouse door gave with a series of soft clicks.

There had been no sign of activity from inside the warehouse during previous analysis of the location, and so far the intel appeared to be solid. The guards only remained until Hydra officially destroyed the warehouse. According to Hill, this hadn’t been a high traffic facility, but there remained the possibility that information could still be found among its remains.

And then there was Steve. He was always the lingering thought in your mind during every Hydra raid, big or small. Captain Rogers wanted—no—he needed any information on the Winter Soldier that could be found. 

Officially you and Romanov were here to wipe the place clean and return any data to the newly rebuilt S.H.I.E.L.D. Unofficially, anything related to Bucky Barnes was to go straight to Steve Rogers. Fury knew, you were sure. Fury knew everything. But he was being lenient. For now, at least.

The halls were silent, but your gripped your gun steadily. It never hurt to be prepared, especially in this line of work.

You could occasionally hear the sound of Natasha fighting in your earpiece, a grunt here or a rush of breath there, but it was nothing more than background noise to you. 

All of the rooms you had come across so far were empty, so you proceeded to the end of the hall and into the stairwell that led to the lower levels.

“Nothing on the ground floor,” you reported, “Heading to the basement level.”

“Acknowledged,” Natasha replied shortly. 

Florescent lights hung from the basement ceiling, flickering ominously as you began the process of clearing every room. Aside from scattered furniture and the occasional spider, your search was fruitless so far. 

“Where’s Cap this week?” you wondered as you gently pushed open another door to another empty room.

“Target number two down,” Natasha informed you before responding to your question. “St. Petersburg.” You hummed in reply. “…Miss him?”

You could practically hear the devious smirk on the former assassin’s face. Natasha had made a hobby out of trying to set Steve up on dates with S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. And ever since she noticed your fondness for the Captain, you had become her latest target. And since you were convinced Steve Rogers held only brotherly affection for you, she had become the recurrent bane of your existence.

“Miss my regular partner,” you countered, thankful that Natasha couldn’t see the light blush on your face. “When he takes off I get stuck with whomever Fury throws at me. Like crazy Russians who shoot their partners.”

“He was in the way.” You snorted and shook your head. “And target number three is down. I’m on my way to you.”

“Copy.” The next door you reached for was heavier than the rest, and resisted as you tried to push it open. Holstering your weapon momentarily, you braced yourself and shouldered the door open with a hard shove.

Frowning, you stepped inside. This room must have been of some importance at one point. The door was heavily reinforced, meant to contain someone. Someone strong. 

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. They couldn’t have held Bucky here. It was too small an operation. You made your way around the room, retrieving your flashlight to examine it thoroughly. You didn’t want to miss even the tiniest detail. You couldn’t risk giving Steve false hope. 

You noticed a small stirring of dust at the base of the far wall, and moved closer to inspect it. You were underground and the walls made of concrete. There should be no reason for a draft. 

A thin line was barely noticeable along the wall and you ran your fingers over it curiously. Was it—?

You heard footsteps in the distance and turned to meet Natasha in the hall. You only took one step before there was the sound of gears moving and the door to the hall slammed shut with such force that it shook the floor.

Natasha’s walk became a run as she heard the commotion. “Y/N?” she called as she pried and pushed at the door. It refused to budge. “Are you okay?” 

“I—yeah,” you stammered in confusion. “I thought…”

“You thought what? Keep talking,” Romanov ordered as she stepped back to study the door.

“I thought this room was meant to keep someone inside,” you said, thinking out loud as the beam of your flashlight bounced around the room searchingly. “But maybe it was meant to keep people out.”

“I’m not people,” Natasha said determinedly. 

“I think there’s another door,” you murmured, considering the possibility. There was that break in the wall. It might take some prying, but if it was a hidden door, you were sure you could get it open. It could be a way to escape this makeshift prison, or it could just lead further down into the compound.

“Don’t move,” your partnered demanded, and you nodded to yourself. Natasha was right. When in doubt, stay where you were.

Natasha was considering her options when she heard Y/N’s pained yelp and a frantic “Shit!” 

“Y/L/N! Talk to me!” she barked, slamming her shoulder into the door without even a slight grimace at the pain. 

There was a crackling over the coms, a rustle of cloth and labored breathing. Natasha pressed her earpiece into her ear with a frown. “Y/N?” The silence was troubling.

“I am sorry, Agent Romanov,” came a quiet sigh, “You’re too late.” 

Natasha grimaced. The voice that answered was not your own.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One:

 

Natasha sat in the conference room, head down as she mentally replayed the night’s mission. Tony watched her with concern. Romanov was dangerous on a good day, but absolutely deadly in this kind of mood. Clint sat beside her, steely determination in his gaze. Bruce had taken to pacing the floor silently. Fury and Hill were reviewing surveillance data and have a quiet but serious discussion. The near silence was beginning to grate on Tony’s nerves.

The door practically slammed open as Steve Rogers, breathing heavily and eyes wide, stumbled through. “What happened?” he demanded, closing the door for privacy. There was a pleading tone to his voice that made Nat want to cringe. She didn’t want to be responsible for Steve losing another person. She couldn’t be. 

“Have a seat, Captain,” Fury declared as Maria Hill stepped away from the director and took a seat at the table with the team. Steve’s jaw clenched but he did as told. “Now, do you want to tell us how a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was kidnapped from a decommissioned Hydra facility and you saw nothing, Romanov?”

“Our intel was bad, sir,” she admitted stoically. “It took a half an hour to blast the door open, and a sweep of the base revealed a series of tunnels leading to the woods along the edge of the facility. Tire marks on the ground suggest there was a vehicle waiting approximately eight hundred feet outside of our known perimeter. It was set up and I should have known it.”

“Any lead on where they were headed?” he wondered, turning to Hill in askance. 

“A team followed the vehicle’s tracks until they hit the main highway. Then we lost all trace,” she frowned. 

“So that’s it?” Steve said incredulously. “We’ve got nothing?” He sat forward, clenching and unclenching his hands in frustration.

“We work with what we’ve got,” the director informed him sharply. “Hill, trace the info on the base. I want to know exactly where our intel came from. A recon team is doing a thorough sweep of the facility as we speak, I want their reports on my desk the second they are done. And I want footage from any highway cameras in the area.” 

“Yes sir,” she nodded and stood to take her leave.

“You’ll be informed the second new information comes in, Captain,” he assured Steve in a deceptively calm manner. Steve bowed his head, displeased but resigned. 

“For now, call it a night, people,” the director sighed gruffly. “We’ve got a team working on this round the clock. You’ll need to be ready to go when I say. So get some sleep,” he ordered, looking pointedly at Natasha. Her mouth tightened in response, but she didn’t argue. 

He surveyed the weary group with one steely eye before unceremoniously walking out of the conference room, leaving the Avengers on their own.

“I’ll see what kind of progress Hill is making with the traffic cameras,” Tony said after a long beat of silence. “See if I can’t find a way to speed up the process.”

“I’ll join you,” Bruce added softly. Tony smiled tiredly and the two left to find Maria Hill. 

Clint took a deep, calming breath and stood with a stretch. Heading to the door, he placed a commiserating hand on Nat’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before heading back to his room.

“How bad was it?” Steve murmured, his gaze squarely on the table in front of him.

“No blood,” Nat replied, a slight rasp to her voice. “No trace of Y/N at all, really. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t to kill her.” 

Steve thought back to Bucky, to what he had become, what Hydra had made him. Sometimes he wondered if death was preferable. The idea that Y/N was being held by Hydra, undoubtedly being tortured, created a pit in his stomach. He was so exhausted, mentally and physically, from his search for Bucky. Knowing that Hydra had their clutches on another one of his friends made him feel sick.

He should have been with Y/N. After the events at the Triskelion, with Nat busy creating a new cover and rebuilding her life, he and Y/N had begun to work together more closely. You had volunteered to help him in his search for Bucky, and never once begrudged him leaving to chase another lead. You always had his back. Even if, more and more, he wasn’t there to have yours.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he turned to Natasha, studying her blank expression. Logically, they all knew it wasn’t her fault, but he felt like she needed to hear it out loud. She needed to know she didn’t fail Y/N.

If anything, he felt it was he who had failed you.

“I’m going to find her,” Nat said in a tone that brooked no argument. Her unyielding determination was a comfort to Steve.

She finally met his gaze, and Steve gave her a faint smile. “We are going to find her.”

 

Your brain felt fuzzy as you slowly began to regain consciousness. Your head was pounding, but as you tried to raise your hand to your forehead, you realized that you couldn’t. 

Your hands were at your side, strapped to a table by thick bands of leather. With a groan, you tugged at the restraints, your heart beating faster as you felt similar restraints on your ankles as well. 

The last thing you remembered was being locked in that room in the old Hydra warehouse. And a sharp blow to your head. The secret door? It had opened with force, slamming into your head and knocking you off balance. You had muttered a curse and tried to regain your footing, but a then there was a pinprick in your neck and the world got hazy. You vaguely remembered the sound of banging and Nat’s voice before everything went dark.

And now you were here, wherever here was, strapped to a table. There was no possible scenario where this ended well.

“She’s waking up,” a gritty voice, rough but almost familiar, broke into your thoughts. “Finish securing her.”

Hands moved to your neck and another strapped was tightened around you, this time assuring you couldn’t move your head much. You struggled to see who was in the room with you.

Your surroundings were dark, with only hints of soft light in various corners. You could see the darkened silhouette of a man near the base of the table. His arms were crossed, his stance wide, reminding you of a soldier. 

The hands that now left your neck belonged to an unassuming man in a lab coat. He didn’t seem troubled by your struggles and frantic movements as he moved about. You felt him take your hand, and could feel pressure on your index finger. A flurried beeping noise filled the air and the man in the coat frowned slightly.

“Her heart rate is significantly elevated,” he noted with something akin to concern. 

“It’s going to get a hell of a lot more elevated in a minute,” the shadow at your feet replied with an amused grunt. “Get to work.”

The doctor complied and you felt the pinch of a needle in your arm. Panic started to set in and you began to thrash as much as you could in the restraints. 

“Keeping fighting, kid,” the silhouette crooned, “It’ll only make it hurt more.”

And hurt it did, as whatever substance the doctor injected you with began to burn in your bloodstream. You grit your teeth, determined not to cry out. 

The soldier was no longer content to watch from afar, and moved out of the shadows to hover by your right side. You couldn’t contain a bodily flinch at the sight of him. His face, as well as any visible skin, was badly burned. He was dressed head to toe in black. His hair was missing in patches near his forehead. The scarring made him nearly unrecognizable, but his eyes were unmistakable.

“Rumlow,” you rasped as he gave a garish grin. 

“In the flesh,” he sneered.

“We thought you were dead,” you hissed through clenched teeth. “You definitely look it.”

All trace of humor fled his face. “I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” he growled.

There was no doubt in your mind that he was telling the truth. He nodded to the doctor and you could feel the second push of the injection.

This time you couldn’t contain your cry.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

 

Three Months Ago

 

“Time to cross another item off your list,” you insisted, as Steve rolled his eyes in amusement. He knew you were just trying to distract him. His search for Bucky was going nowhere. Wherever he was, he didn’t want anyone to find him. 

Steve had been a bit down in the dumps since he had returned from his last fruitless search, and you hated to see him sad. No one deserved to be happy after everything they’d been through more than Steve Rogers. 

“Well Tony already had me watch Star Wars, and Clint says he wants to be the one to introduce me to I Love Lucy. So what’ll it be?”

“Disco,” you stated, grinning.

“Really?” he asked skeptically. 

“It is a highly underrated genre,” you defended your choice. “But I’m going to narrow it down. Today, you shall be schooled in Donna Summer.” He raised a brow. “Trust me, I’m sure Sam would agree that she was the queen of Disco. Bad Girls, Last Dance, MacArthur Park…”

“It is on the list,” he gave in with a smile. “But I draw the line at dancing. Sam showed me some of his ‘moves’ once and I think I could actually injure someone if I tried that. I was never much of a dancer,” Steve admitted with a hint of melancholy. 

“Deal,” you agreed, squeezing his hand gently before dragging him from the couch to look at the albums you brought with you. “But one day I’m going to get you to dance with me, Captain.”

He chuckled, letting you lead him around like a puppy. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

Present Day

 

It had been four days now since your abduction.

There had been no rescue attempt. No sign of Nat, Steve, or the team. 

Whatever Rumlow had you injected with caused searing pain throughout your body. He delighted in your every scream and groan. When the iridescent blue liquid was finished being injected into your arm, the pain finally subsided and you were able to catch your breath again.

That lasted an hour, before it was time to start again.

This time, Rumlow didn’t bother with needles and serums. He stuck with good, old-fashioned torture. The beating you received was brutal, but nothing you hadn’t been trained to endure. He seemed to know this, but enjoyed the process nonetheless. 

Next came the electric shocks. Not enough voltage to kill you, but they were certainly leaving their mark. There were red burn marks along your flesh. He remained entertained but ultimately unsatisfied.

Oxygen depravation had been his latest trick. He once again stuck with traditional methods, spending hours waterboarding you. The simulated drowning was true torture. Pain was one thing entirely. You could teach your body to endure pain. But the primal need to breathe was difficult to overcome.

At one point, you just remembered your body lighting up in agony, the pain so great you passed out.

You mind needed the rest from the constant physical abuse. In your respite, you dreamt, remembering. Laughing with Natasha, training with Clint, messing around in Tony’s lab. But memories of Steve kept popping up, overshadowing the rest. His smile, a reassuring hug, resting your head on his shoulder after a long day. You felt a longing for all that again.

When you woke later, you were no longer in the dark room that had been used for your torture. Instead, you were lying in a hospital-like bed, attached to more devices to monitor your vitals.

Still caught up in your memories, your mind drifted to Steve. You had to get out of this place. He still owed you a dance, after all. 

The lighting was dim and foreboding. HYDRA wasn’t wasting any expenses on the power bill, that was for sure. Footsteps alerted you to another presence, and your expression hardened at the sight of Brock Rumlow entering your pseudo recovery room.

“You’re awake,” he grunted, “about time.” 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you replied hoarsely. He was eyeing you curiously, studying you, his attention leaving you feeling uncomfortable. 

“Is it my hair?” you wondered sarcastically, “I didn’t have a chance to style it. But, I mean,” you added, looking at his head full of patchy hair and bald spots, “who are you to judge?”

“Keep running your mouth,” he dared. “I can make this so much worse for you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you pushed him. Tired of this ridiculous status quo, you were ready for everything to come to a head. Good or bad, you wanted to end this.

Without blinking, Rumlow grabbed the knife from its sheath on his belt and drove it into your thigh. A centimeter further and it would have punctured your femoral artery. As it was, the pain would be intense.

Or it should have been. You could feel the pressure of the knife, but the shock of pain that should have accompanied it was missing.

A bubble of laughter, a mix between hysterical and smug, rose from you and Rumlow furrowed his brow in confusion.

“You can’t hurt me,” you crowed. “In fact, it kind of tickles.” 

Torn between anger and curiosity, Rumlow shouted for assistance. Someone in a lab coat came in and began bandaging your leg to stop the bleeding. Rumlow left the scene swiftly, looking like a man on a mission.

It took five hours for him to return. 

In the mean time, a slew of scientists or doctors had been in and out of your room. They fiddled with equipment, attached some more monitors to you, and still you remained blissfully free of pain. 

When Rumlow reappeared, he wasn’t alone. 

The man beside him was surely a fellow HYDRA agent. He was well built, tall and muscled, with a shaved head and a strangely blank expression on his face. Rumlow was content to take a back seat to this new man, taking a seat near the end of your bed and stretching out leisurely.

“Good evening, Agent,” the unfamiliar man greeted you with a raspy but inviting British accent. “My name is Ajax.”

You raised an amused brow, but remained silent. You’d bet Clint twenty bucks that wasn’t his real name. 

Ajax’s attention turned the readouts from all the equipment attached to you. Whatever he saw must have pleased him, because you saw a small smirk crawl across his lips. 

“I hope your stay here hasn’t been too unpleasant,” he continued. “Tell me, have you experienced any pain in the last few hours?”

“I’m hunky dory,” you sneered, “thanks for asking.”

“Well that is interesting,” he admitted, sharing a pleased glance with Rumlow. “You see these here?” he pointed to three nodules attached to your sides. “They have been repeatedly delivering low level shocks to your body for the past four hours. The electrical spike is noticeable in most monitors, but there is no detectible sign of stress or pain. Your breathing didn’t speed up, your body has not grown tense, and your heart rate is steady. You know what that tells me?”

“That your equipment sucks?” you sighed, wary of his oncoming revelation.

“That you can no longer feel pain,” he grinned, and it was a beautiful and terrible thing. His eyes wandered to your foot and your gaze followed, surprised to see a pen pressed deeply into the arch. You hadn’t felt that at all. He and Rumlow grinned as you paled.

“The serum you received was designed to enhance any mutation that may exist within your DNA,” Ajax explained, and from his humdrum manner you assumed he had done this many times. “Your body then needed to be subjected to stress to activate the mutation.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to torture me,” you taunted Rumlow. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“Just a happy coincidence,” he grinned. 

“I underwent the same procedure,” Ajax continued, uninterested in your banter with Brock. “I gained enhanced reflexes.”

“Nifty,” you muttered, and he snorted.

“Had an interesting little side effect though,” he mused. “The serum burned off my nerve endings. I can no longer feel pain,” he stared you down. “And given time, I could no longer feel…anything.”

Any sense of superiority or confidence you had fled you at that moment. Feeling no pain was one thing, a bit of a blessing and a curse. You’d be a better fighter now that pain didn’t distract you. But you could also easily injure yourself without anything signal that something was wrong.

But feeling nothing? No emotion, no love, no joy. That was truly terrifying. 

“Now I have your attention,” Ajax smiled. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Brock is in serious need of a hobby?” you quipped, trying to hide your fear.

“You’re here,” he ignored you, “to kill Steve Rogers.”

You laughed, but the men’s expressions didn’t change.

“You could never get me to kill Steve,” you declared. “Even if you managed to brainwash me like you did Bucky Barnes, it’ll never happen. Steve Rogers is stronger than me, and smarter than you.”

“Tell her,” Rumlow ordered, voice low and menacing. 

“We won’t need to brainwash you, sweetheart,” Ajax cooed. “Times have changed and HYDRA with it. All we need is to slip a control collar on you, and you’ll be forced to do whatever we tell you.”

“You’re still forgetting that Steve is a super soldier,” you reminded Rumlow, even as your heart sped up. “He could best me in any fight.”

“And you’re forgetting that Captain America is still a man,” Brock spat. “He cares for you, from what I’ve seen of you two, you look to be getting pretty close. Do you really think he’ll hurt you? He couldn’t hurt Barnes. He let him just walk away. But you won’t be able to walk away. I’ll order you to fight him, to the death. His or yours, doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t even have to worry about pain clouding your orders. In the end, one of you will die and Steve Rogers will know what real pain is like.”

“You’re doing this for revenge?” you recoiled.

“And for fun,” he cackled. “When will it be ready?” Brock turned to Ajax.

“Within the hour,” he shrugged. “You’ll want to test the collar, I’m sure.” Rumlow nodded.

“Get some rest, kid,” Rumlow smirked, giving you a pat on your injured leg. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter Three

Part Three:

 

It had taken two months before Brock Rumlow was satisfied that you were ready to be sent into the field. The injuries he had given you during your lengthy torture sessions needed time to heal. And there was the matter of gauging the strength of your newfound ability. 

Ajax took over when it was time to put you to the test. While Brock preferred blunt force, Ajax almost made torture an art form. He didn’t want to leave you with any devastating wounds that would take time to heal. So he remained true to a wise motto: Work smart, not hard. 

He did notice that you healed at a slightly accelerated rate compared to before, but that was just a tiny boost from the serum. Your true strength lied in your inability to feel pain. Without such a hindrance, you could fight furiously despite any injury. It made you a force to be reckoned with.

The day they fit you with tactical gear, you knew your time was up. 

You had been stuck wearing the damned control collar for weeks now. The only words you ever uttered were “Yes, sir.” No was not allowed. 

Rumlow didn’t bother giving you a mask or goggles to disguise you like the Winter Soldier. He wanted the Avengers to know whom it was they were fighting. Most of all, he wanted Steve Rogers to know that you would be the one to kill him or die trying. 

He finished securing your gear, double-checking your weapons and testing your holsters, while Ajax lingered in the background with a pleased smile. 

“The time has come, sweetheart,” Brock crooned, giving you a mocking pat on the back. “Now be a good girl, and bring me the head of Steve Rogers.”

You said nothing. Inside you were screaming denials, but nothing left your lips. You wanted to fight him, to stop this madness, but your body had no control. Instead you calmly allowed him to escort you to a waiting SUV. 

If the torture hadn’t broken you yet, this certainly would.

 

“You realize this is probably a trap,” Sam pointed out as he surveyed the shipyard from atop a nearby hill.

“I know,” Steve sighed, standing solemnly at his friend’s side. “The intel is sketchy and too convenient. But it’s the only lead we’ve had in months.”

“I count five on the north side of the warehouse,” Natasha’s voice announced over the comms. “No sign of our girl.”

“Clint?” Steve squinted as he made out the shapes of the men patrolling the grounds.

“I’ve got seven in my corner. Nothing I can’t handle,” the archer replied confidently. 

“Well then what are we waiting for?” Tony interrupted, and Steve looked up as the Iron Man suit buzzed past him. “It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.” 

At the sight of the infamous Iron Man above them, the men on the ground began firing, their automatic weapons sending Tony twisting and turning in the air to avoid the bullets.

“Yeah, if the fish had really big guns,” Sam smirked, and with a nod to Steve he was off to provide Tony with cover.

“So much for subtle,” Natasha murmured.

Steve gave a commiserating grunt and started to run towards the chaos, picking up his pace as he grew closer to the fight.

Throwing his shield with expert precision, he knocked out three men before they could even see him coming. When they woke up, if they woke up, they would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Under normal circumstances, Steve might feel a touch of guilt. But these men were HYDRA, and if they were involved in holding you hostage they deserved every ounce of pain they got.

When his shield returned to him, Steve found himself pausing amid the fray. There were a good number of fighters on the field but none of them really looked his way. His entrance hadn’t been a quiet one. They had to know he was there, but they all seemed focused on his teammates. It was as if they were just keeping them occupied.

The sound of a gun cocking had him spinning, his shield protecting his front as a barrage of bullets headed straight for him. They pinged off the vibranium, and Steve was forced to wait until there was a lull in the gunfire before he could confront his assailant. 

Having run out bullets, he heard the gun being tossed aside, saw it land in the dirt a few feet away, and he finally was able to see who tried to shoot him in the back.

When his eyes met yours, they widen almost comically, but the expression on his face was pure heartbreak. Your face was dangerously blank.

Seemingly undeterred by his shock, you drew another of your weapons, a sturdy combat knife, and lunged. Steve met your strikes with rapid blocks of his own, refusing to hit you. You appeared to determined to kill him; every blow intended to be fatal, aiming mainly for his chest and neck. 

“Stop!” he shouted, trying to break your focus, but you never hesitated. Going for his legs, you tried to strike him in the knee, but he was too fast and delivered a roundhouse kick that knocked you to the ground.

Immediately apologetic, Steve dropped his shield as you slowly picked yourself up and dusted yourself off.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach as you met his gaze and he saw no emotion in yours. They couldn’t have. They had already taken Bucky, wiped him of every trace of the man he was. They couldn’t have done the same to you. Steve couldn’t take it if they did. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason with you, flinching at the sight of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. You never even bothered to wipe it away. “Please.”

“Brock Rumlow wants your head,” you said frankly, and Steve swallowed convulsively. 

“You aren’t Rumlow’s puppet,” he argued forcefully. “You’re an agent with SHIELD. You are a strong, brilliant woman,” he pressed, taking a careful step toward you. Your hand went to the loaded gun at your side, removing it from your holster and holding it warningly at your side. 

Steve’s steps stopped, and he raised his hands slowly, showing you he meant no harm. The sound of the team, the rest of the fight, was nothing more than background noise now. All his focus was on you. “You’re my friend.” 

You raised your gun, “I don’t care.”

Steve closed his eyes, unwilling to fight you, and ready to take a bullet if he couldn’t get through to you.

“Sorry about this, kid,” Steve heard Clint mutter in his ear and he opened his eyes to see you stumble a little from the force of the arrow that entered your shoulder. 

Dropping your gun, you tried to get a look at the shaft from over your shoulder. Reaching one hand back, you broke off the end and forced the arrow and the rest of the shaft out of the exit wound. 

“Uh, that should be shocking the hell out her right about now,” Clint advised nervously as you showed no signs of struggling.

“They’ve done something to her,” Steve muttered, kicking the gun away from you as he tried to get a grip on you while you were distracted. “I don’t know what. She’s…empty.”

“I have an idea what,” Natasha denied, taking out the last of the five men in her region. “Tony, we could use a little help.”

“Understood,” he acknowledged. 

You knocked yourself loose from Steve’s hold, slamming your fist into his face. He brought his hands up to cover himself, but the expected blows never came. Instead there was a whoosh of air and Tony swept in, holding you in his iron grip as he flew through the sky. 

Your flight wasn’t a long one; he dropped you almost as quickly as he had taken you. You stumbled on the ground, allowing yourself to roll when you hit the pavement to help break your fall. 

Two feet took a step into your line of vision, and you looked up dispassionately at Natasha. She looked you over carefully as you pulled yourself into a crouch. Her eyes zeroed in on your neck and she smiled in grim satisfaction.

Unable to wait any longer, you pounced. Unlike Steve, Natasha was more than willing to fight back. A few of her jabs and kicks landed solidly, and she noticed as she eyed you with scrutiny that you never winced. 

Tony shot a repulsor beam at a handful of HYDRA agents nearby and the ensuing explosion momentarily distracted you. Noticing your inattention, Natasha pushed off her feet with all her momentum, throwing herself towards you and wrapping her legs firmly around your neck. 

The force of her attack brought you to the ground. Your hands tore at her legs, trying to gain your freedom, but Natasha fended off your attacks easily. You tried bucking your hips to send her off balance, but she remained stone still. The pressure around your neck only increased.

“Sorry about this,” Natasha mumbled, watching as your eyes began to flutter. You were struggling for breath, face turning red.

“Nat, let her go!” Steve demanded as he ran up to them, going pale at the sight of you unable to breathe. 

“Not yet, Cap,” the redhead frowned, with one last tightening of her thighs. 

Soon enough your struggles stopped and your eyes rolled back in your head. Satisfied, Natasha finally allowed herself to release her grip, standing above your prone body. Steve was eyeing her dismally. Sam landed next to him, looking at the scene warily.

Clint and Tony arrived seconds after, the archer’s gaze glued to the bloody wound on your shoulder.

“While I’d love to continue with the world’s deadliest family reunion,” Tony declared, ignoring Steve’s angry look, “We really should be getting out of here before the rest of HYDRA decides to pay us a visit.”

“We should secure her in the jet,” Natasha nodded, and Tony took a step forward to pick you up. Steve beat him to it, lifting your body into his arms as he sent Tony a warning glare.

“She’s out cold,” he murmured, looking down at you regretfully. “Does she really need to be tied up? After everything?” 

“She just tried to kill you,” Sam reminded him bluntly. “The more restraints the better, if you ask me.”

“That always was my motto,” Tony chimed in, and Nat gave him a tired but amused smirk, shaking her head.

“Maybe when she comes to, she will be herself,” Steve hoped, but even he knew it was a long shot. “Like with Clint, a little—cognitive recalibration?” 

“That’s not going to cut it this time,” she offered him a sad smile. “You see that?” she gestured to the collar around your neck. Steve frowned when he noticed it. “That’s HYDRA tech. With it, she is only able to follow orders. And it looks like her orders were to kill you.”

“Then get it off of her,” he said sharply.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “There’s a chip embedded in the back of her neck. It controls everything, and there are consequences to tampering with it. Deadly ones, I’ve seen it. It can’t just be removed, Cap. If we’re lucky, Tony and Bruce will be able to figure out a way to release her…”

“And if not?” Steve asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“Then she’ll keep trying to complete her mission, until it kills one of you.”

Unwilling to accept that possibility, Steve hitched you up higher in his arms, walking double speed to the jet. Sam shared a careful look with Tony as the team joined up with their Captain.

You may have been in his arms, but Steve thought despondently, they still hadn’t freed you from HYDRA.


End file.
